


Watching the Stars

by CatsDog



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Holding Hands, Romance, Stars, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5416727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatsDog/pseuds/CatsDog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra steps out from a meeting with Fereldan nobles on Inquisition business, needing to escape the claustrophobic surroundings.  Inquisitor Trevelyan soon follows, where the two come to talk about the stars above.</p><p>It's an insufferable fluff piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching the Stars

The stars looked like so many fireflies to Cassandra. Each unique, each its own twinkling white spot in the sky distinct from the others. All her life she had been told that hidden among the great black sea of the sky were shapes and celestial paintings depicting battles, heroes, and creatures. To her tutors and companions that seemed to spot them so easily she would feign agreement and recognition, but when left alone to gaze she could not conjure any of the legends on the black canvas.

An uncountable number of white flakes was all that was up there, she decided. The Maker painted nothing for them to see, he had just blessed some with the creativity and the mind to create images themselves. As she rubbed her knuckles out of a fitful habit Cassandra took one last glance at the sky, contenting herself with the moon. She did not need the abstract paintings of dragons and boats and heroes so long as that great pearl was there to serve as a companion.

Behind her the estate was beginning to wind down its affair. The more esteemed guests had shared their stories and garnered their favors and all that remained were the opportunistic and those too addled by their drinks to realize that they were the very patrons that were being avoided. The minstrels continued to play somber, quiet tunes to help soothe the remaining guests to bed as servants removed the most egregious messes.

Cassandra knew the Inquisitor was in there somewhere, squeezing the last contacts and connections he could out of the event. He had complained and protested the event for days, insistent on sending representatives and contacts, but Josephine had been insistent. This would serve as one of the few times Ferelden, Orlesian, and Marcher families would congregate on the same spot and though she knew that he felt it a waste of the Inquisition’s time and resources the complaints ceased as soon as he took to the road.

Now that he was here he was the very figure of diplomacy. As a Marcher his grasp of Orlesian was just enough to delight the masked nobility, who gawked at him like a peculiar oddity, never realizing that the donations to the dancing monkey of Ostwick was just as useful as any other coin. To the Fereldens he shared hunting stories in hushed whispers so that they felt they were privvy to some great secret. It was strange and brilliant watching him work and yet an infernal jealousy grew so tight that it felt as though she was being strangled. Cassandra needed air and the patio that overlooked the pine forest below had all the air that she craved. 

The young Trevelyan was at his best in there, wearing, discarding, and changing masks with an impossible speed, but he was unmistakably him underneath it all. She wanted to be with him then and to steal his attention way when he was at his most serious. They were childish desires, but she could not deny their overpowering strength.

It was best for everyone if she was out here, admiring the stars and trying in vain to find the shapes of legends among them. 

Her body tingled and felt disconnected, separated it independent parts by the wine. The Fereldens had complained that it was too sweet and she was inclined to agree. It tasted of cherries and reminded her of flowers and silk dresses, but worst of all its intoxicating effects did not have to be earned through labor against the tongue. That made it difficult to judge when to stop before its clutch became too strong. She was not drunk, she was certain, but she felt lighter than the moment when she stepped out of her armor for a bath.

She wished they had never come here. The sights, smells, and sounds were too distracting and dizzying and only made her yearn to be a thousand miles away, safe in the walls of Skyhold with books, reports, and the smell of wood and leather. Perfume made her uncomfortable, as light headed as the sweet Orlesian wine, The musk of pinewood was more comforting, but the soft glows from the guest houses and servant quarters that were buried in the trees reminded her of the opulence of her surroundings. And it was suffocating.

The music was getting quieter and footsteps approached from behind. Cassandra did not turn to look at who approached, instead keeping her eyes on the moon and the pock marks that stained its white face.

“Too hot inside?” she recognized the Inquisitor’s voice even as it carried the dignified tone of a negotiator. It suited him well, but she had hoped that he would arrive as himself, leaving the nobles and their games so that he could share this moment alone with her.

The disappointment lasted only until she felt his hands on the back of her neck, tracing the ridges of her spine so quickly that she could have mistaken it for a passing insect. All the same it did its part and her body relaxed all at once.

The Inquisitor sat on an empty chair across from her, looking all the part of his role as an emmissary and leader in the furred coat and scarf that he wore over an elegant black coat. The two had argued and agreed, debated and compromised on a head piece before leaving it with the horses and the other luggage. She was glad he had left it behind as she looked at him, admiring the way his hair was beginning to grow back, no matter how many times she would poke him for giving up on the soldier’s haircut.

As though reading her mind as he relaxed into the chair, practically melting into the seat, he said, “You look good in that.” She could not be certain if it was the wine or the intensity of his stare wandering her body then.

“I look ridiculous,” Cassandra complained, swatting at the air as though to ward him away. She had entertained the idea of a dress, but settled for a grey tunic with broad, darker shoulders. Her pants were black and form fitting, so they seamlessly transitioned from leg to boot as though they were all one.

Trevelyan smirked across the way from her. “Then I like ridiculous.” His tone was still so regal. Perhaps it befitted him. He wielded it so well. It was impossible to imagine the man in the wolf skin cloak had once been her haggard prisoner, wide eyed and confused as she had been in those dark days. The things she had said, had threatened to do were the origins of lifelong feuds. Yet here now the only distance between them was her own insecurities.

Even though he was an arm’s reach away he still felt worlds apart and the official way he spoke only made him seem further. But perhaps that was his intent. He was no longer just the Herald, nor the boy from Ostwick. He was the Inquisitor now, ordained by the Maker and she was a sword arm to that end.

“What have you been doing out here all alone?” Trevelyan asked, the exploration of Cassandra’s outfit completed so that he might now lock eyes with her.

“I needed to be away from it all,” she explained, gaze falling back on the stars above. “Too much perfume. I could not breathe.”

Trevelyan laughed. “The Orlesians wear double when they know Fereldens are around.” Cassandra tossed him a quizzical look. “Keeps the smell of dog to a minimum.”

“Replace one stench with another,” she remarked. “Did you accomplish what you came here for?”

“That’s the problem with these dinners,” he complained, sounding more like his usual self, “It takes months to find out if two hours of your time were well spent.”

“Well at least it looked like you made friends.”

Trevelyan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingertip to fingertip. He tossed a glance over his shoulder at the fast diminishing party. A mistress was trying in vain to talk her masked patron into abandoning his wine as several rugged Fereldens looked on, bored as they were pushed to the edge of their etiquette and patience. 

 

Confident there would be no eavesdropping he looked back at Cassandra and said, “Honestly? That’s the worst part.”

Cassandra snorted as she tried to suppress a laugh. “You’re a scoundrel,” she said, shaking her head.

“So what have you been doing out here all this time?”

She looked back up at the sky, sighing in a sheepish defeat. “Everyone always tells me that there are shapes in the sky. Constellations. I’ve been trying my whole life, but all I see are dots.”

“Really?” Trevelyan looked up at the sky with her. “Nothing?”

“Just stars.”

The chair beneath him groaned as it was slid against the wooden porch, bringing his seat closer to hers. She became aware all at once of his proximity, like they were sharing the same air and it was all the more delicious for it.

A thousand bolts of lightning crackled up and down her arm, converging on her heart as he took her by the wrist and used her hand to point toward a cluster of stars.

“You see that one?” he asked, each word clear as his breath fell on her ear.

“That one what?”

She watched as he adjusted his grip then followed to where her own fingers were pointing.

“That bright one right there, there’s kind of a circle around it?” he clarified. She spotted the cluster, a single bright star like a lone gem sharing its space with a handful of dimmer lights, looking the part of a gem atop a ring.

“I see it. What of it?”

“Looks kind of like an iris doesn’t it?” Trevelyan pushed. Narrowing her eyes a bit and perhaps with the assistance of the sweet wine she found herself agreeing.

“Yes. I suppose it does.”

“That’s called the Seeking Eye. If you look long and hard enough at it you realize that focusing on the right stars let’s your mind fill in the image. There’s an old legend that says it represents a hero that will do great deeds. I think on certain nights it looks at a dragon constellation, but I can’t be too sure on that.”

Cassandra watched the constellation for several moments, doing her best to keep focus as the wine made the eye twist, move and blur. The story was just pleasant words for a moment until the meat was what he was saying began to sink in.

“Seeker…” she repeated, the breath caught in her chest. “Legendary…” it all seemed too convenient. Cassandra narrowed her eyes and dashed her view right to look at him. “You made that up.”

At first his face remained stonewall, showing no signs of hurt or surprise. She was ready to give up on the accusation until his expression cracked, that smirk returning and his eyes trying not to widen in amusement.

“You bastard!” she called out, jabbing at him with her elbow and wrenching free. The freedom was not long lasted as his arm wrapped around her and pulled her half out of her own chair and half into his lap. She did not and could not fight it and before she realized it she was looking up at him, his face only inches away from her own.

She could feel him drawing closer and the wind caught in her chest, the warm air of his breath replacing her own. At first her eyes began to flutter then she clenched them shut in anticipation, her arms hanging weak at her sides. Cassandra knew that in the silence of the night her heart pounding against her chest must have been heard for miles. She knew the only thing that could silence it was his kiss, but it was so agonizingly slow, what was taking him so long?

At last, as she was ready to burst, wrench open her eyes and punch him for taking so long, she felt the rush as his lips pressed against hers and in that moment she surrendered. Her back arched and her body yearned to give in to the rest, to be taken by him and be swept up in that moment, but all she could muster was a frail left hand, her fingers trailing his cheek as lightly as he had touched her neck only moments before. She wanted and needed him to press forward, at his pace. Each moment he pressed closer, kissed her harder, it was another wave that rocked her, and the night became a quiet, black bliss.

When they finally pressed together and their mouths moved as one into one another her hand became more firm on his cheek, calling and pulling against him, demanding that he never let go.

Their tongues flicked in light, caressing motions and even against him as she was a muffled sound still spilled out. This was the invitation he needed and their moment became hungrier, more primal, lips becoming entwined and tongues deeply caressing one another in broad strokes.

When the two finally parted for breath Cassandra struggled to find hers. She was aware only of the way her body throbbed and her heart continued to try to escape in force. And the way he was looking at her as though only she existed.

Her hand was still fondling his cheek, somewhere between yearning and gratitude, as her eyes were narrow and hungry.

“Hi,” Trevelyan whispered to her, the words igniting the flame inside of her. She was writhing, she realized, her left leg lifted, almost inviting, as she squirmed into his lap, caressing her Inquisitor with her hand. 

“Hello,” she tried to muster back, though the words were caught in her throat.

“You were right.” He ran a finger across the scar on her cheek, causing her to shudder again and let loose of him, then he lifted his hand and folded his fingers in hers. “It’s all bullshit.”

Cassandra squeezed his hand. “You’ve been talking too much with someone we know.”

“Maybe,” Trevelyan agreed, planting a quick kiss to emphasize the point. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes again, then released his hand and shifted so that she was seated in his lap, head resting on his chest. One of his hands came down to rest over her chest. “My...great uncle? Second uncle? I don’t know, just that he was an uncle of some sort. He was really into the astrology thing. Every birthday he’d bring me to the top of my parents’ mansion and try to tell me about lions and swordsmen.” He gave Cassandra a squeeze, bringing her closer, if that was even possible. “It was all bullshit. I don’t know what this constellation business is all about.”

Cassandra entertained herself by picking his hand off her chest and drawing invisible lines from knuckle to finger tip and occasionally drawing circles on the back of it. She felt strangely relieved at his revelation, even finding herself grinning at the mutual contempt for the cosmos.

“I thought I was the only one,” she told him, “I was feeling lonely.”

“So was I.”

“Oh?” Cassandra leaned back and tried to glance upward to get a view of him.

“I missed you in there. Surrounded by all those peacocks and mabari. I needed you to defend me if one went rabid.”

“You seemed to handle them on your own.”

Trevelyan’s fingers began to run through her hair, causing her to quietly groan to herself as the sensation started to wash over her. If she could have she would stay in that moment forever.

“We should do this more often,” he interjected, catching her by surprise, but struggling to keep her composure so that the pleasure on her scalp would not stop.

“Ridicule the stars and those that read him?” Cassandra poked.

Trevelyan’s sigh was a breath of warm air against her and the sound of contentment. “More nights, together. You being out on this patio was a nightmare. You were so close, I could look over and see you, but I couldn’t reach out, touch you, put a hand at the small of your back for reassurance.”

“I’m your good luck charm?” Cassandra tried to sound indignant and angry, but his words were too soothing and robbed her of her breath. What’s more she felt a truth in him that she could not disagree with. 

He shook his head. “You’re the sword in my hand. I feel lost without you.”

There were no more words to be had. Cassandra broke out of her Inquisitor’s grip and wrapped her arms around his neck so that he could not get away even if he wanted to. Her legs straddled him and her eyes remained on his until the moment she pressed into him with a kiss whose vigor challenged their last.


End file.
